soapboxdiner

I'd come up with something witty for this box, but I'm feeling unimaginative tonight. Bleh.

Days like today go on forever, because that is what I want to do. The sun rises early with the most spectacular hues of pink and peach and lavender and baby blue. I round the curve in the one-lane farmland road and Mt. Rainier jumps out, capturing all the colors on its deep white peaks and inky crevices. Even the cows in the fields seem to take note.

All I want to do on these mornings is drive and drive, don't stop. Put on some jazz and just drive. Nothing in the world of humanity and paper and computer screens and telephones, nothing at all compares. Sometimes it just feels like a fairy tale inviting me to enter.

Sigh.

New Girl got beat from every angle today. Every single person in the department leaned in on her. No one wanted her company. No one wanted to make banal small talk with her. Harsh words and sarcasm, from everywhere. Though I cannot say that she got anything less than her due, as she takes credit for every other single person in the place, and when she does her own work, she does is sloppily. It makes the rest of us look bad, and we all get the negative feedback for it. No, I cannot say she didn't deserve it.

But at the same time, when in one moment this person snarks and in the next, someone else snaps... I feel badly for her. It makes no sense, really. Maybe its because she is diminutive and looks so much like a child. Maybe its because mentally, she is still a child. Tough love is a nasty bitch. Perhaps there is a lesson for her, us, me, in that. Or not. Perhaps I'll just accept the vindictive bitch in me and say comeupance is a big hairy kick in the knee cap, darling. Think hard before you wiggle that sweet flat expanse of assal real estate of yours in its face again.

Or not. Maybe I'll just be ambivilent.

Today I got two phone calls from the state, responding to the two letters I sent to the Feds in November. May I just say:

HAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!

Someone get a shovel, some bricks are getting pulled out of somebody's ass over there at DSHS. I love it when self-pronounced godheads get tapped on the shoulder by A God With Some REAL Power.

Can't say it does ME any good though, as it took so long to get a reasonable subsidy that I ended up just hiring another sitter. But still, I am not why I wrote those letters. I did it for the little people, dudes.

(Really. That's true.)

And lastly before I go, may I just say - When I whined about having four periods a year at most? Yeah. Somebody Important took note of that bitching and decided I needed them every month now. God, was I stoopid for whining or what?

Thank the gods of flannel jammy pants and fuzzy slippers. I have a nice heating pad on my tummy and am currently massaging my swollen and angry mam glands. The only good thing about cystic breast disease (which really isn't a disease, you know) is that what for 21 days of the month are a little lack luster regain some of their teenaged UMPH for the remaining seven. Zenlike happiness is a week of perky firm breasts, darlings. Don't ever doubt that.

5:53 pm - 01.08.03
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